A Jail Can Have Many Walls
by LinZE
Summary: There are many different prisons; often those inside the mind have more devastating consequences than any other. The basis of this fic is the end of the fifth book – what if everything that happened after MM was stunned was delayed about 48 hrs?
1. Chapter 1

A Jail Can Have Many Walls  

Summary:  There are many different prisons; often those inside the mind have more devastating consequences than any other.  The basis of this fic is the end of the fifth book – it's a kind of what if everything that happened after MM was stunned was delayed about forty-eight hours.

Disclaimer:  To my great shock I woke up several years ago and found that a Miss JK Rowling had crept into my mind one night and stolen the most amazing world I had created there.  Or not.  Either way I really don't own the characters or their surroundings any more.  No infringement or offence meant.

~~~~~~~~~~

            "What!  You mean she actually managed to half kill her own deputy?"  Fred asked his mothers head, which sat in the fireplace of their new flat.

"Pretty much."  Molly Weasley responded with a frown.

"We should write to Ron.  I want to know what actually happened.  I imagine that that livened up the exam somewhat.  Hell hath no fury like McGonagall scorned."  George quoted the Gryffindor in-joke at his brother.  Fred nodded in agreement with a smile but before he could say anything else was interrupted by his mother.

"Will you two listen to me?  This is serious – she was hit by four stunning spells at once."  Both their faces fell.  They had assumed that what they had heard of the story had been somewhat exaggerated, but it seemed in fact that the exact opposite was true.  That was more than enough to 'half-kill' their head of house.  "And then that, that…woman, she left her there on the grass!  In the middle of the night!  If it hadn't been for the fact that there were so many people awake to witness it I don't want to think…" She trailed off obviously trying to hold back her tears.

"Don't worry Mum.  The professor's tougher than she looks.  I'm sure she'll be back on her feet before you can say 'Extra Transfigurations homework'."  George said in a much softer voice than previously.

"I spoke to Poppy and Rose Sprout earlier this afternoon."  She continued obviously not taking much comfort from what he had to say.   "Apparently they were all called to the staff room and told quite explicitly by the _Headmistress_ that they weren't aloud to visit her at St Mungo's and that she was ashamed that one of her staff felt the need to behave so _immaturely_.  I mean there are many words that I would chose to describe Minerva, but I'm quite certain that nobody could justly call her that! And we can't get a hold of Dumbledore, and he'd want to know and there's no one there for her and your father and the rest of the Order can't go because Fudge" she almost spat the name " is watching them like a hawk and Poppy said that it probably wouldn't be a good idea if Alistor or I went 'cause we've both just gotten over really bad colds and…"  She was sniffing and wiping at her eyes now.  

"Mum!  Will you calm down?"  Fred interrupted his mother's flow of worlds.  "Getting worked up isn't going to help anyone.  I'm assuming that Hagrid's going to join Professor Dumbledore in hiding so he'll hear what happened last night soon enough."

"Not all of it.  Anyway, she just shouldn't have to be alone at a time like this…She must be so scared…It's just wrong!"  Fred had never really associated their Transfigurations professor with the normal gamut of emotions that regular people experienced.  He wasn't entirely sure why, as he had seen plenty of flashes of what went on under that steely mask over the last few years, such as when she had come to find them after Ginny's dissapearance, or on the many occasions when one or other of her students had been victimised or found themselves in danger.  But in any case the image that his mother had conjured left him somewhat shaken.

"How about if we go and pay her a visit?"  Asked George seemingly waking both his mother and brother from their thoughts.  "Well it makes sense doesn't it?  Our jobs aren't at risk and in any case what could they do about us going to visit a former teacher?"

"Would you really?"  She asked earnestly.

"Of course we would."  Fred reassured her.

"I don't know… I can't tell you what kind of state she'll be in."  She needn't have said this – it was almost unheard of that Madame Pomfrey would relinquish her charges to the care of the hospital and if she had done so, it didn't bode well for the individual. 

"I really appreciate you boys doing this but you have to realise that this is not just another opportunity for practical jokes."

  "Mum!"  George responded shortly.  "You did bring us up reasonably well.  We do have some manners and a fairly well developed sense of what's right and wrong and most of the time, what's appropriate."  It seemed that the news that Professor McGonagall was going to be receiving at least one visit in the near future had put their mother in a better mood as she smiled at this.

"That's good to know.  Just, just make sure she knows that we're all thinking of her."  

It was almost nine o'clock when their mother left them be a few minutes later and it was an easy decision to postpone their visit until the morning.  Neither of them were sure what kind of state they would find their former head of house in, but they doubted that she would be awake and were fairly certain that they wouldn't be allowed in to see her this late anyway.  The decisions the following morning seemed a little more complex.

"There is nothing wrong with chocolate frogs!"  Protested Fred vehemently.

"I'm not saying there is," countered George.  "I'm just saying she's not a teenager and I think she would be more likely to appreciate flowers."

"I can't believe we're having this argument!  It's like we're about to go on a date or something."  Fred pointed out and they both shook their heads and smiled at this thought.

"I'll tell you what – how about you take the frogs and I'll go find a nice bunch of fresh flowers?"  He was well aware of the fact that he could have conjured a bunch in the blink of an eye but he could hear his mother's voice complaining that they just didn't smell like the real thing.

"Sounds like a plan brother dear, and a not half bad one at that."  George shook his head again at this; sometimes he found it hard to believe that he shared a genetic code with this guy.   Five minutes later they were walking down Diagon Alley, gifts in hand, toward the apparent location of the wizarding hospital.  Neither of them had ever had cause to visit the institution before the previous Christmas when their father had been admitted, and then they had entered by the muggle entrance.  So although they knew the area reasonably well as it was close to the Ministry, which they had visited many times, they had to check the signpost for directions before they arrived at their destination.  (This was after a slight detour, as it seemed the lamp-post was in a mind to play tricks and send everybody in a circle before telling them what they really wanted to know).  The streets were fairly quiet, as they had missed the early morning office traffic but had gotten out before the shops were really busy, and the reception of St Mungo's reflected this as the walked through the large oak doors.  The sight they were faced with was, slightly surprisingly, very similar to the one they had found on their first visit, despite taking what looked like an entirely different way in.  George was about to comment on this when a horrific sound somewhat resembling that of a large quantity of Filibusters best fireworks being set off right next to your ears rang through the reception area.  It didn't take long to identify where the sound had come from though, as everyone in the room was staring at the petite woman sitting in the waiting room who quite obviously had just sneezed into her lacy handkerchief.

"Thorry."  The woman said thickly looking distinctly embarrassed.

"Forth floor." Said a mediwitch in lime green, as she passed, never taking her eyes off of the pile of charts that she was carrying.

"Hmmm."  Fred said aloud.  "I wonder how she managed that?"  George more than recognised the look on his brother's face.  That indeed would be an interesting symptom to try and integrate into their growing stockpile of ideas.  But the present task returned to the forefront of his mind as quickly as it did to Fred's as he quickly changed tact.

"Where do you recon they'll have her, with the others who have been attacked by animals or in spell damage?"

"I suspect we're headed to the forth floor too."  He replied pointing out a set stairs that had a big sign hanging above them pointing the direction to   As they climbed up, George couldn't help but let his worry escalate a little in accordance.  "Do you, do you think she really will be ok?"  He asked as they took a turn off the stairwell.

"I don't know."  Came the reply as Fred slowed a little toying with the box in his hands.  "But I expect so.  You were right.  She's tougher than she looks and these people are good.  No doubt she'll be back at Hogwarts making them all catch up on all the homework they'll have missed out on before the end of term."  He had to smile at this and if he was honest he would have to agree that that sounded probable, but he couldn't shake the unpleasant feeling that there was more to this than they knew.  "George?"  Fred continued.  "Do you have a funny feeling about this?"  He didn't even need to nod in the affirmative when he looked at his brother's face.

"Well..." was all he said as he gestured that they should continue in the direction of the mediwitch's station at the near end of the ward.  Before they got there though, a somewhat familiar voice called to them from behind.

"George?  Fred?"  They both turned to see a young witch hurrying down the corridor towards them.

"Samantha?"  Fred asked as she drew near and slowed down.

"The one and only."  She replied with a smile.  If he remembered correctly she had been a Hufflepuff a couple of years above them.  "I heard about your rather dramatic departure.  Well everyone did – that was the stuff of legend."

"Thanks.  You working here now?"  George asked, regarding the somewhat garish colour of her robes.

"Uh huh, as a trainee at the moment.  I still have another year to go. I'm just on placement at the moment but it's great.  I'm really enjoying it."

"Hey, maybe you could help us.  Do you know where we could find Professor McGonagall?"  Fred asked.  Her smile faded at this though and she began to fiddle with her cuff.

"I'm sorry, I can't …I can't tell you."  She said quietly her eyes averted.

"Why not?  Are we not allowed to see her or…?"

"No it's not like that.  I didn't mean for it to come out like that."  She seemed to be getting progressively more worked up about this.  Fred risked a glance at his brother and saw only the same growing concern mirrored in his face.  "I…. I don't know where they took her."

"Who took her?"  He asked.

"I don't know!  They were officials though.  They showed Mary some papers or something and she tried to tell them that…that …that…"

"Tell them what?"  George urged gently placing a hand on her arm.

"That she wasn't well enough!  I mean she was doing much better than we could have expected." A small smile slid across her face at this, even though she seemed on the brink of tears otherwise.  "She was even putting up protests about being kept in bed.   But they were, they were token!  She could barely stand when they swept in here and bundled her off!" The knot in George's stomach dropped with the weight of lead.

"When?  When did this happen?"  He asked.

"Beginning of my shift."  Samantha replied, surreptitiously wiping her eyes on her sleeve.  "Must have been about seven o'clock.  Look, I know that she was head of Gryffindor, but you should know that she had all of our respect and our loyalty."  Fred thanked her, though George couldn't help feel affronted by this reference to the professor as if she were already dead.

"Here, I'm sure you ought to be able to find a good home for these."  George said, handing her the flowers before Fred did the same with the chocolate, and they both turned and left.  They walked quickly and in silence until they reached the ground floor once more.

"This way?"  Fred asked indicating the corridor with the sign reading _'Apparition point'_.  George nodded and they took the turn.  A few moments later they both appeared in the middle of the kitchen in The Burrow and simultaneously called, "Mum!"

A/N  As always feedback is warmly received and all due credit goes to Maria my beta (even if she is biased toward cheeses of Greek origin lol)


	2. Chapter 2

A Jail Can Have Many Walls – chapter 2  

**~~~~~~~**

            Alistor Moody walked down the street in his own indomitable fashion; Clunk, Thunk, Clunk, Thunk.  There were times when he cursed the misfortune that had left him with this 'damn' leg which made it nigh on impossible for him to sneak up on anybody.  The incident that had lost him his eye however had allowed him to acquire a rather useful tool though.  He let his magical eyeball roll around in its socket ensuring, once again that he wasn't being followed.  Reaching into his pocket for a handkerchief he found the sweet shop order form that had arrived by owl around an hour ago, much to his surprise.  The mail had not been sent from Honeydukes though, of that he was sure as this was the signal alerting him that one or more members of the Order needed to meet with him urgently.  So he had left his home and after apparating through his usual four random spot routine he had arrived in London to meet who, he was not sure in this weeks designated spot, a busy inn not far from the Ministry it's self.  He pushed open the door to the smoky haunt and he was glad that it took him a minute to even locate someone he thought he might be who he was there to meet.

"Time for a Fox's Glacier?"  He asked gruffly sitting down across from the individual half hidden in the shadows while he silently cursed Albus for yet another ridiculous code phrase.

"I've always preferred Pan drops."  Came the required reply as Arthur Weasley leaned forward just enough to reveal some of his features.  "We have a problem."

"Yes, we do indeed.  You need another drink."  Alistor replied quickly calling over one of the waitresses and dealt with it.  "Now what were you saying?"  He asked taking a swig from his hip flask and ignoring the glares he got from the young woman as she bustled off into the busy pre-lunch crowd.

"Minerva's disappeared."  The other man put succinctly.

"Of her own volition?  Knowing Tabby she would have been climbing the walls in there already."

"Doubtful.  I don't think she was in a fit state to be climbing anything."  He realised that this comment did not mean that the other man had taken his previous statement literally but only that it said something about the Deputy Headmistress's health.

"Start from the beginning, what I've heard has been pretty patchy.  I know Umbridge and her cronies were trying to 'remove' Hagrid then Tabby tried to intercept them but having let her damn temper get the better of her she was caught off guard."  He had always thought that Minerva would have made a stunning auror if it had not been for her fierce Celtic temper that often got the better of her.

"That fits what I've heard."  Arthur confirmed.  "Poppy had her transferred to St Mungo's."  He continued.  Alistor had been a little concerned by this but knew that the medi-witch would always do what she deemed best for her patients.  "Anyway Molly spoke to the Gruesome Twosome last night and asked them to go visit.  Well they went this morning only to be told that she had been spirited away earlier in today."

"Do we know whom by?"  He asked his anxiety missing another notch.

"The boys spoke to a trainee they knew from school and she seemed to think that two men who turned up were official.  She didn't know where they had had her taken but… it seemed fairly certain that the staff hadn't been keen on the removal of their patient quite yet."  He could tell that the other man certainly felt he was understating the situation.  

"Have you contacted the school?  She could have been transferred back there or into a more secure location so that Dolores Umbridge can feel safe in her bed tonight."  He added with a derisive snort.

"We thought it best to try to ensure that we didn't attract anymore attention to the situation."   The other man answered and the former Auror had to agree.  With all the mail being screened and the flu networks being monitored, communications with the castle had been difficult.  "Molly met with Poppy yesterday so there wasn't even… it might have looked somewhat…" He nodded and Arthur didn't bother to finish his sentence.  Alistor made another survey of the room with his magical eye while he thought.  He knew that they had to rule out the possibility that Minerva had been returned to the school but he didn't think it likely – the 'High Inquisitor' was far too paranoid to allow the return of someone she deemed a threat if she didn't have to.  Where she, or Fudge would have taken her though he wasn't sure.  It was times like this that he really missed Albus's incredible insight.  He sent Arthur away realising that he must have been away from his post for sometime now, asking him to contact all the members he could, telling them to congregate at HQ as soon as they could.

            Several hours later he was again walking down a road with that irritatingly distinctive Clunk, Thunk, Clunk, Thunk.  This time however he was in muggle London with a bowler hat pulled down firmly over his magical eyeball and trousers and a sports jacket replacing his usual robe.  He walked quickly but still paid his surroundings due attention.  Having already apparated to four separate locations, walked a short distance than disapperated again his journey much longer than he would have wished it before he had arrived in the heavily wooded area around half a mile from Grimmauld Place.  He had spent the time since his encounter with Arthur Weasley doing what he could to gather information about what had happened earlier that day in St Mungo's without raising too many antennae.  In the end however it had been Kingsly Shackelbolt who had overheard two of the young and horrifically pompous aurors discussing the 'special' assignment they had been chosen for and completed that morning.  Alistor Moody had been angry before.  Many people would claim that he was constantly angry and bitter, and he would admit that they weren't far wrong, but this – this was different.

"Oh Alistair!"  Came Molly's greeting as the door to number eleven swung open.  Before he began to climb the steps.  "He's here!"  She called back inside.  He refrained from telling her off for opening the door before she could be sure that he was actually who she supposed.

"Quieten down would you?"  He did grunt though, as he made his way past her and into the dark hall beyond.

"We're in the dinning room."  She told him, far more subdued than she had been before.  "The kitchen's a little…busy at the moment."  This didn't come as a great surprise to him.  In all the many years that he had known Molly Weasley she had always turned to cooking when she was upset or concerned about something.  It was a habit that had ensured that they had always been well feed before any major operation.

"Desert?"  He asked allowing himself to be distracted a little.

"Summer pudding with whipped cream – your favourite."  He nodded but suppressed a smile at her shrewd observances.  She was one of the few people whose cooking he would actually eat.  They soon arrived at the rather spectacular Black family dinning room.  In accordance with the rest of the house the room was draped in heavy, dark materials but someone had opened the blinds letting the early-afternoon sunshine flood into the room.  Around the spectacular mahogany table that ran along the centre of the room sat an unusual combination, not entirely representative of the usual group.  Sirius and Lupin were sitting at the near end in deep discussion with the Weasley twins sitting opposite them.  Tonks was apparently only half listening to the conversation as she morphed her hand in and out of a shape that looked surprisingly like the nimble, powerful and deceptively delicate ones that belonged to Minerva.

"Any news?"  Asked Lupin, looking up as soon as he entered.

"We haven't had any luck at all – no one's talking."  Tonks added as Molly sat down next to her.

"Well that's not quite true."  He told them.  "I've just spoken to Kingsley and he was fortunate enough to overhear Rupert Kendal have a rather interesting discussion with Findlay Mountroy."  The younger auror pretended to spit on the floor next to her chair.  The older woman frowned slightly at this but said nothing as he continued.  "I have to agree with you on that one they're both so full of themselves it's impossible and so far up Cornelius Fudge's…" He coughed a little as Molly's frowned deepened.  "It's unpleasant.  That was probably why they were picked for the job."

"What job?"  Asked Sirius, his frustration clearly showing.

"At about midnight last night, Fudge and Umbridge signed official papers for the arrest of one Minerva Anne McGonagall."  There were a series of sharp intakes of breath.

"What were the charges?"  Lupin asked his large blue eyes staring straight at him.

"Aiding and abetting two known criminals wanted for arrest."  He began.

"No house points for guessing who they are."  Fred interrupted.

"Obstruction of Justice.  Obstruction of the Hogwarts High Inquisitor.  Attempted Treason and attempted actual bodily harm to the High Inquisitor and other ministry officials."  There was a moment's stunned silence.

"She Hadn't Even Drawn Her Wand!!!!"  George pointed out with barely constrained malice.  Alistair assumed that they had heard the whole story from their brother and the others by now.

"And it's not as if their weren't any witnesses!"  Molly added.

"And if Umbridge is going to have Professor McGonagall charged with _obstruction of the High Inquisitor_ then she's going to have to charge pretty much everyone in the castle except her bleeding 'squads'" Fred added.

"Where have they sent her?"  Sirius asked quietly.

"I spoke to a friend who works in the holding cells and he said that she wasn't anywhere in the complex."  Tonks added with conviction.

"Well he was right.  She wasn't taken to the holding wing."

"The prison hospital?"  Molly asked hopefully.

"Not quite.  They sent her to Azkaban."  This silence was even more oppressive than the last.

"Please tell me that was a Very bad joke."  The werewolf asked, his eyes now fixed on the table in front of him but Alistair really wouldn't have been surprised to see his hackles rise and the young man start to growl.

"Do I usually joke?"  He asked them.

"Oh, Merlin."  Molly said quietly lifting her apron up to her face as she began to cry.  Tonks put an arm around her, as she looked up to him her eyes showing confusion at what had happened.  It wasn't usual for any prisoner to be placed straight into the maximum-security prison without at least some kind of a trial, at least not since the end of the last war.

"The dementors are still in place?"  This was George.  He nodded in reply.

"Under normal circumstances, I have no doubt that she has the power to walk out of there almost as easily as Dumbledore could,"  He began acutely aware of his wording.

"She does have the advantage of being able to transform."  Sirius added quietly, speaking for the first time since the mention of his former home. 

"But after what happened!  They pulled her out of a hospital-bed for Circe's sake!  She could barely hold herself up never mind go through that and….oh…"  Molly slowed her flood of words and although he had to admit that he wouldn't have put it quite like that she had hit the nail more-or-less on the head.  Minerva could never be put down for long.  If she was told she was going to be out of action for a week, two days later she would be up and about by sheer force of will, usually complaining that she wasn't being allowed to do anything.  But no matter how much quicker she would recover from her injuries than your average witch or wizard, they were talking weeks not days in this case.  He also knew what kind of affect that the morbid creatures who found their home there, had on people.  Had on her. The twins went to comfort their mother but soon she sniffed a little, seeming to pull herself back together and muttered something to do with turning down an oven and bustled out of the room.  Before she did though, she looked up and caught his eye.  Neither one of them said anything but in the instant that they both stopped, he saw the weight of knowledge behind her eyes and was certain she could read his face just as well.  There were aspects to today's events that he was sure only they were aware of and it was a truth that laid heavily upon his world-weary heart.


	3. Chapter 3

A Jail Can Have Many Walls – chapter 3  

**~~~~~~~**

Albus Dumbledore let his head fall into his hands and sighed heavily.  Wiping at the lone tear that he had allowed to fall down his face, he wondered if there was anything he could make a bigger mess of than he had done of that situation.  A part of him wanted nothing more than to curl up in a corner and continue to berate himself for his past decisions and fool hardy belief that he knew what was best for the young man, but a softly spoken Scottish brogue rang through his head.  '_The best thing you can do when you feel like giving in is to pull up your socks, tuck in your shirt and well – get on with it. Not even we have the ability or right to change our greatest mistakes so we have to make the best of what we leave for ourselves and hope that with time we may be able to put right a little of what we have done wrong.'  _He had often thought that had Minerva not chosen to teach, she would have enjoyed spending her time philosophising; well as long as she could find someone to argue with.  But perhaps, in this case, she was better qualified to talk than most.  He stood and headed towards the door and then descending the stairs hurried toward the front entrance.  He really wished that he could put off his impending visit to Cornelius Fudge's office; he wanted to speak to Alistair, who he knew had been trying to find a moment to talk all evening.  He had a disturbing feeling that it had to do with his deputy the philosopher.  When Hagrid had told him how she had come tearing down the slope from the castle in order to defend him, he had been hard pressed not to chuckle.  An angry Minerva McGonagall was a force to be reckoned with, but no doubt she had let her temper get the better of her if she had been overcome in the fashion the half-giant had told.  He had been reassured when the other man told him of the audience that had viewed the entire exhibit as he had more than enough faith in the capabilities of the rest of his staff to ensure that she had been taken good care of.  Even Fillius Flitwick could be somewhat intimidating when called to protect someone he had a soft spot for, and there was little arguing that Minerva fell into that category.  In any case he had an entirely unsettled feeling about the whole Umbridge affair, not helped by the fact that she had obviously been jealous of the other woman since long before her arrival at Hogwarts.

"Albus!"  He heard the gruff voice call to him across the hall.

"Moody."  He greeted as the other man joined him and they continued to walk together.

"The boy?"  His old friend asked almost hesitantly.

"Will probably never trust me again, but he knows the truth.  That, at least, is a bonus."  The auror nodded a little before reaching out uncharacteristically to grasp his forearm.

"It's about Tabby, Albus," He began, but the Headmaster intercepted him.

"How is she?"  The question flowed from his tongue automatically while his subconscious was spurned into denial.  Surely he would _know_ if she had…..

"I wish I could tell you."  This caught him slightly off guard but he tried to make the leap.

"They haven't let anyone see her?  Surely Poppy…?"

"After Hagrid took off, she was taken to the hospital wing but as far as I gather it was quite clear from the start she was going to need more serious treatment than Poppy could provide."  He frowned at this.  It would have to have been worse than he had anticipated for the school nurse to relinquish her care to someone else.  "Well, that left her fairly isolated to begin with.  Umbridge banned the staff from going anywhere near St Mungo's, and the rest of us couldn't risk drawing attention to ourselves by going to visit.  Anyway, eventually Molly sent the 'gruesome twosome'.  But when they got there this morning it seemed she'd already been bundled off somewhere and no one was talking. That was until Kingsley overheard a rather interesting conversation, the summation of which was pretty much that our exemplary Minister and his High Inquisitor had Minerva arrested on some of the most preposterous charges I've ever seen, and sent straight to Azkaban."  His blood ran cold at this.  Minerva could deal with just about anything, but he had to wonder what this turn in events would do to her in what seemed to be a fragile state of health.

"She's still there?"  He asked speeding up once more as they headed down the drive.

            "Cornelius…  Cornelius!"  Albus rarely raised his voice, so when he increased his volume just a little, it seemed to have a dramatic effect.  The other man ceased his prattling instantly.  "Please Cornelius sit down and just listen to what I have to say, would you?"  He continued returning to his usual soft tones.

"Of course, of course."  The Minister looked flustered, taking his seat behind the rather overbearing desk.

"You need have no doubt that I will do everything within my power to help you.  It should have become fairly obvious by this stage that I will do whatever it takes to try and ensure the safety of our people.  And this task will certainly be made easier with the support of the Ministry."  The other man shifted uncomfortably in his seat.  "But before we begin to discuss this further, I would think there is one certain matter that I believe needs to be cleared up first.  I know you've already withdrawn the warrant for Hagrid's and my own arrests.  Now I want my Deputy back."  Though he did not raise his voice or bang his fists on the table, the feeling that ran behind his words was quite clear.

"I would like to point out that my assistant is also missing."

"Really?  I do believe I walked past Mr. Weasley on my way in."  Fudge's face was beginning to colour impressively and his hands were now balled into fists by his sides.

"Dolores Umbridge, has not been seen since some of your pupils witnessed her being _abducted_ and taken into the Forbidden Forrest."

"I assume that if they are once again 'my' pupils, that you are happy for me to return to my previous position?"

"Of course; wouldn't have it any other way."  He mumbled in response.

"Well do be assured that my Gameskeeper ought to have arrived back at the school by now, and is no-doubt in the process of ensuring Professor Umbridge's safety.  However, I really don't see what that has to do with you releasing Minerva McGonagall from Azkaban."  The other man pushed a few papers around on his desk around before calling to the young man outside.

"Weasley!  Where's the latest decree?"

"Number twenty-eight sir?"  He asked, bustling into the room.

"If that's the last one we passed, then yes." Albus's legendary patience was fast running out with this new incarnation of Cornelius Fudge; an irritating mix of the helpless and the pompous.  

"Right here."  Percy told his superior, pointing to a sheet of parchment lying dead centre on the desk.  "Professor I just wanted to say…."  He continued turning to look at the Headmaster.

"That'll do Weasley."  Fudge interrupted, obviously wanting him out of the room.  He managed to catch his former student's eye before he turned to go, and dipped his head slightly in recognition of the apology he knew he had been offered.  After the door had closed he carried on.  "Ah, yes."  Albus took the proffered scroll and read what had been written upon it.  He needn't have though, as Fudge felt fit to give a pretty much verbatim account of what it meant in practical terms.  "You see, Dolores and I came to the conclusion, after your little escapade, that being the High Inquisitor as well as the Headmistress she really needed to be able to wield a little more…power shall we say."

"You gave her the authority to not only file criminal charges but to decide what was _appropriate_ as punishment?"  One day he was going to learn not to be surprised at how stupid most people became when given any significant measure of power.

"It was still necessary for her to acquire my signature before anything was done."  Came the snide retort.  It didn't surprise him that Fudge would sign any parchment that would condemn Minerva, as he had certainly not been her biggest fan since their somewhat vocal disagreement at the end of the last school year.  "However this being the case, it is also necessary that we both sign the release papers."

"I assume that when Dolores is found, you will ensure that both signatures are on parchment as soon as possible?"

"Of course, of course."  Somehow Dumbledore wasn't so sure, but at this point in time he really didn't have much option.  It did however give him a rather good opportunity to leave and get back to the school.

"Well then I'm sure you'll excuse me; many hands make light work after all."  And with this he stood and turned to go.

"But…. but what about….what am I going to tell people?  How am I going to explain….?"

"I'm sorry, I was under the impression that you wanted me to return to help the search for one of my indisposed professors?"  He could see the war raging behind the other man's eyes.  He obviously didn't genuinely hold her safety in high esteem, but to admit so would be tantamount to admitting that he was simply trying to extend the period of time that Minerva had to spend in the company of the dementors.  If he was honest, he certainly didn't give two hoots what he chose to tell the Prophet, or anyone else who asked.  There really was no way he could make those who had been vocal about the second rising of Voldemort look bad after tonight's events, and how he saved his own behind was his own business.  Or that of his advisors.

"Of course, of course."  That reply was loosing its lustre now.  "I suppose that I'll…"

"You'll hear from me as soon as I have something to tell you Minister.   Goodnight."  He only paused when he reached the outer office, where Percy Weasley seemed to be barely in control of his surroundings.  There were several heads in the fire, as well as an impressive number of rather impatient, important Ministry officials in the office itself.  The younger man gave him a weak smile.

"You will be happy to hear that both Ronald and Virginia are in good hands, and that Madame Pomfrey expects their recovery to be full and not terribly drawn out."  He told him quietly some of what Alastor had filled him in on before he had apparated away.  "And when you get a chance you might like to send your mother an owl."  

"Thank you Sir."  The older man smiled, and placing a hand in his pocket, pulled out a lemon drop.

"This might help you deal with that lot first though."  The smile broadened and once again he looked like the child that many thought had long since disappeared behind the professional mask he had worn from far too young an age.


	4. Chapter 4

A Jail Can Have Many Walls – chapter 4

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry stood off to one side of the group of mourners that had gathered on this miserable July morning.  He didn't think that he could deal with the faux sympathy he knew would be on offer; they would claim to feel sorry for him, sorry that they hadn't been able to prevent Sirius's death but that just didn't wash with him.  He knew they couldn't really care because if they did they wouldn't have abandoned him with his Aunt and Uncle for the last three weeks.  It wouldn't have mattered to them if he had been taken out of the 'protective wards' afforded to him by his blood relatives, because what he had suffered in the dark lonely nights had been close to equal to what he knew the Dark Lord would do to him given the chance.  At least you could fight the likes of Voldemort with sword and wand; your own mind was often a more challenging enemy.  The previous day Remus Lupin had turned up at the front door on Privet Drive and informed him that he was finally going to be allowed to return to the world he belonged to, he was going to Grimmauld Place.  At first he had been overwhelmed with joy at the thought of returning to the world where he truly felt at home, but that had soon worn off.  He had enjoyed seeing Ron, and in the Weasley's warm embrace he had almost allowed him to forget for a moment what had happened.  But it was never quite enough; the bitter taste of the events in the ministry would come back to haunt him.  He barely slept and when he did he often wished that he hadn't.  In a fashion he had hoped that today's events would help to put his feelings to rest, but the inadequacy of it all only made his anger grow.  They had flown here, wherever 'here' was, by a most circuitous route, and now there were groups of people standing all over the…well…what was for lack of a better word, a field.  Remus had described it as the Order's memorial to their own, and though he could not really see very far given the weather, Harry was fairly certain that nothing hidden by the mist was going to make him think any better.  Hell, the service today wasn't even for Sirius!  He could just hear it now,  'Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to commemorate the tragically short life our dog Padfoot…'.  It was a complete farce but there really wasn't much he could do to avoid it.  He scanned the assembling masses once more.  He noticed for the first time that Dumbledore had arrived and was once again flooded with mixed emotions.  He wished with all his heart that something would be simple; that he would meet at last one person who didn't induce such confusion in him that he couldn't discern what was right and wrong.  He tried to draw his attention away from the introspection he knew from experience would do him no good and looked once again turned to his headmaster.  The older man seemed distracted somehow, and although he responded to the quiet greetings of the others as they arrived, his eyes seemed to be constantly searching the distance beyond Harry's head.   Harry couldn't quite quantify what it was that he was seeing in the Headmaster's face, whether it was pity or concern or just nervousness, but he found it unsettling all the same.  After a few minutes, he observed a change though and automatically turned to see what it was that had caught the other man's attention.  He was just in time to see a tall figure swathed in black appearing out of the mist.  The hood of their heavy cloak was up and shoulders hunched, but the twisting in his stomach made Harry certain that it was Professor Snape who was heading in their direction.  But as the figure neared him, on the most direct path towards where Dumbledore was standing, they slowed and lifted their head high enough so that their face became visible from deep within the shadows of the hood, and Harry realised that he really couldn't have been more wrong.

            The figure that was now nearing him wasn't his Potions Master at all but his own Head of House.  It appalled him momentarily that he hadn't been able to recognise her but after he allowed himself a moment, and a cursory, if subtle inspection of the woman in front of him, it dawned on him that it should hardly come as such a surprise.  Her skin was chalky and cheeks sunken and so sallow in appearance that they would have rendered Snape looking tanned and healthy.  The only colour in her face was in the form of the deep charcoal smudges beneath her eyes.  Her eyes themselves though, they automatically reminded him of Sirius's haunted look.  It was as if he could see a torrent of storm clouds beneath their grey depths.  But his Godfather had been incarcerated for years - almost fifteen - when his Professor had been there for no more than a fortnight.  He knew that she had been released some two weeks ago now as Ron had wrote to tell him about that.  He had also mentioned at some stage since his arrival that she was due to be released from St Mungo's after what the other boy had seemed to find an incomprehensible long stay.  He supposed that this was another of the differences between them.  If one of the pupils at Hogwarts broke a wrist, it was considered a big deal if they had to wear a bandage for the first twenty-four hours never mind a cast for six weeks; they just weren't used to these things taking time.  Harry's train of thought however, was interrupted when she actually stopped beside him and spoke.

"I'm sorry."  Those two words seemed to convey such a huge meaning that he couldn't quite comprehend.  The soft Scottish accent with which she spoke was far more gentle and submissive even, than he was used to.  He smiled a little, his vocabulary failing him miserably when he sought a response.  She returned the gesture, but the result was so sorrowful that it made his heart ache, and he couldn't help but watch her back as she carried on away from him.

It wasn't long before the others began to congregate around the giant dog print embedded in the ground.  The ground must have been sealed somehow, as the print acted as a pool that reminded Harry of a strangely shaped fishpond.  The water contained in it continually changed colour though, and every once in a while would spurt upwards like a fountain – as if trying to hit the people around.  If nothing else it was different, and he supposed it did seem to catch Sirius' personality in the joker and prankster department. Remus spoke and Harry was surprised that he managed not to become riled at anything that the older man said.  It did dawn on him that Remus too had lost the last of his group of friends.  He was certain that he still had family though so he supposed he wasn't really all alone.  Not like him.  The service wasn't long, but all the way through he could feel his gaze wondering over to the three figures who stood on the other side of the group.  They were an odd group: the Headmaster who was standing head bowed, but with a firm arm around his Deputy as if he half expected her to run away, or perhaps it was more likely that she would not be able to keep herself upright.  On her other side was Professor Snape, who having arrived momentarily before they had all gathered together, had gone to her and though he kept his hands to himself, stood a fraction behind her as if ready to catch her should she fall.  At one stage, just as they were concluding the formal part of the afternoon, the Potions Master looked up and caught his eye.  Though he said nothing and his face was as unreadable as ever, he dipped his head slightly in acknowledgement that left Harry with a sense of well being, the origins of which were totally foreign to him.  

Despite his relative calm at the end of proceedings he new well enough that it would not last if he stayed to be sociable when the crowd began to mingle.  This being the case, he slipped away quietly and once he was sure that the heavy mist would obscure the others' sight of him, he began to wonder around the other memorials that were scattered all over the space.  He came across all shapes and size of sculptures, some with names he recognised - many he did not.  All of them had dates inscribed on them somewhere, dates of service rather than of birth and death, though the date of the end of their work for the Order more often than not coincided with that of their demise.  He only saw one kinetic sculpture though, its smooth movements cutting gently through the thick chill air.  He ventured close enough to read the inscription on the base and couldn't help but take a second look.

_Frank And Alice: Who Continue To Live In The Way They Served – With Bravery To Astound All.  _

It seemed so appropriate really.  They weren't stationary, they hadn't died, yet their lives were filled with aimless motion.  They lacked purpose.  Though the tribute fitted them perfectly, Harry certainly wasn't sure how he would feel if it had been built in honour of his parents.  For the first time it dawned on him that there was likely a memorial to them somewhere nearby and had a sudden urge to find it.  After a few minutes of wandering around futilely, he decided that he was going to require some form of system if he was to find anything.  This in mind he walked as straight as he could until he reached the periphery of the plot before walking as far left as he could.  When he reached the corner farthest away from where the others were still mingling, he took a moment to just look around him.  Though the moisture in the air still hid most of the view from sight, he got a calm feeling from what he could see.  He headed out on the first thing approximating a path that he had seen thus far and hadn't gotten far before he saw what he assumed to be the first memorial to have been erected.  It was certainly the simplest he had yet seen, a simple white stone resembling what he had come to expect to see at muggle graves.  Its age was only highlighted by the foliage that swept the ground around it, and in the case of the ivy that climbed up the back.  Even though, he could tell that the vines had recently been pushed apart on the front of the headstone, revealing a simple phrase that seemed so very poignant and yet not entirely sensical.

_To Three Little Girls Who Never Had A Chance And_

_Their Father Who Was A Man._

He was intrigued by what it meant but didn't think to ponder on it long as the cold seemed to seep into his bones signalling he had surely been stationary too long.

            He walked quickly following the worn patches in the grass showing so clearly where many feet had trod before, and it did cross his mind that he would have thought that they might have come up with a way to stop the turf from wearing away.  His brisk pace ensured that he covered the ground quickly, and having soon realised that the tributes were in fact in chronological order, he halted only briefly to check the dates.  In the end it was pointless though for he managed to identify his parents marker with ease.  It was one of the newest which he supposed should hardly have been surprising, and as such he could clearly hear the subdued chattering of those individuals who were still present even if they were hidden from sight.  Two pieces of metal, one bronze and the other silver shot from the earth twisting into a kind of conical helix and merging together perfectly at the top.  But what struck him most was the red stone that was suspended between them.  It wasn't large but seemed to pulse steadily with a warm light irradiating the cool moist air around him.  

"That's supposed to symbolise you."  The quiet voice from behind him startled him out of his observations.  Though he recognised the voice immediately he turned to look at the speaker in any case.  Remus Lupin with his charcoal grey cloak wrapped close around his figure, seemed to fit in perfectly with the sombre atmosphere of the place.  They both stood in silence, simply observing the sculpture and as time passed Harry felt more and more mesmerised by the stone glowing at its center.  It took him a while to realise that the pulsing of the light matched the thrum of his own blood running through his veins.  It was an odd sensation but not an altogether unpleasant one.

"I think it's time we were heading back."  The quiet suggestion from the older man broke him once again from his thoughts, but this time he nodded a little and offered his former Professor the best smile he could muster.  "Wouldn't do if we were to both catch pneumonia now would it?"  He continued, a little lighter, and as they made their way back towards where they had stored their brooms earlier, Harry felt far more content than he had in a considerable time.

            It was almost a week later when Harry, having woken once again in a tangle of sheets and trembling all over and finding that it was, yet again barely three am, decided that getting up was going to be better than tossing and turning until dawn.  He stood and walked across the room quietly, even though he knew that Ron slept like the dead, and pulling on a t-shirt over the baggy sweatpants that he had cut the bottoms off and generally wore to bed, slipped through the door.  He crept down the corridor hoping not to wake anyone else, though he was fairly certain that all the adults were being housed on the floor above.  It was strange, compared to the year before, that many of the adults he had seen visiting were staying longer than they had previously.  There were now allocated guest rooms that were there for any of the order who needed them, and along with the regulars of Mr and Mrs Weasley and Remus, Alistor Moody had been making frequent visits and the Headmaster had been at breakfast on more than one occasion.  Harry suspected this had to do with the presence of the Transfigurations Professor, which was in itself something of a mystery.  Though Ron, Ginny and he had seen her briefly after they had all returned from The Garden, there had been neither sight nor sound of her since then.  Mrs Weasley had made mention of it only on one instance, when she had given them a lecture about keeping the noise down when they had been involved in a particularly loud game of exploding snap.  He managed to avoid the creaky step and padded softly along the front hall trying to ensure that he didn't wake the inhabitants of the portraits up.  Shivering a little, he wished he had thought to put more clothes on and was glad to see, as he pushed the kitchen door open that there was already a fire burning in the grate.

"Take a seat Mr Potter, before you catch a chill." Came the familiar Highland lilt from a figure pretty much hidden in the depths of a high-backed easy chair next to the hearth.  He crossed the floor quickly trying not to think about how strange this really was.

"Hot chocolate?"  She offered conversationally, lifting her own mug to her lips.  Harry noted that although she still looked far from healthy, there was a definite improvement in her looks since the day of the service.

"Thank you. Please."  He replied a little awkwardly and watched as she retrieved a pot and a mug that had been sitting close to the warmth of the flames before pouring his drink.  It took him a minute to realise why the action seemed so unnatural; he had expected her to just magic it into existence.  But she hadn't.  He did realise however that it was likely she had been warned off, if not entirely banned from, performing magic unless it was strictly necessary.  "Thanks."  He said again, taking the proffered vessel and wrapping his hands around the warmth.  This was certainly one of the strangest experiences he had managed to get himself into he decided, as he watched her from under lowered lashes and over the top of his mug.  As the chocolate slid down his throat he couldn't help but remember the restorative powers of the substance that he had encountered when dealing with dementors.  He wondered if that additional warmth was why she was drinking it now.  It was an effort for him to equate this woman curled up like a cat before a fire, with his Head of House.  Her legendary bun had been replaced with a simple braid that hung over her shoulder and the emerald robes replaced with what looked to be black satin pyjamas.  She wore a long cardigan over the top of these though, and she wrapped it around her in a very protective fashion as her gaze returned once more to the fire.  He was glad of the easy silence they slipped into, that she didn't question him as to why he was up and about in the middle of the night.  The fragile peace that they had established was broken though when the Professor spoke again.

"He didn't ever mean to hurt you Harry."  The words that may have sounded like a riddle to anyone else were as clear as ice to him.  The lack of pre-amble caught him off guard and his retort was ought before he thought.

"But he did."

"Very few people live their lives without regret."  She paused and ensured that she caught his eye before continuing.  "We all make mistakes Harry, whether it's because we're young and foolish, because we're mislead or misinformed, or simply because we do not have the benefit of hindsight.  But surely you can understand why he didn't tell you earlier?  He, we, only wanted to try and let you have something approaching a normal childhood.  We had no way of knowing that the events that have occurred since you began attending Hogwarts were going to come to pass, however sorry I am for that.  And…"  She seemed to hitch there for a second. "…every time something did happen, we discussed telling you, but you already had such a heavy load to bear."  She was leaning forward, towards him now, and the intensity in her eyes for a moment overpowered the shadows that had been there since he had arrived.  " I suppose Albus, the Headmaster, came to the conclusion that there was never going to be a _good_ time to tell you, and that finally the pros outweighed the cons.  

            "I would never pretend to understand how you feel right now Harry, because nobody except you will ever know for sure what's going on inside of you.  I do know that you must be missing Sirius terribly though, and I suspect you probably feel incredibly let down by us all right now, and you have every right to feel that way.  Just remember…"  She paused again.  "Please try not to blame him for what happened or for acting the way he did – he did the only thing he felt he justly could."  They both sat in silence for another moment.  Harry felt like he ought to say something.  He wanted to say something but just couldn't find the words.

"I don't really blame him."  He wasn't sure where that had come from.  "I….I wish he'd told me earlier.  I wish I hadn't had to find out most of the things about my parents and well… me, the way I have.  It hurts that you didn't think I could deal with it and yet at the same time…."  He was the one to take a deep breath this time.  "I know you were right.  What Professor Dumbledore said that night was probably true… I would have withdrawn from everyone."  He leaned forward, deposited his mug back on the hearth and ran his hands though his hair.  "But just because I understand why he did what he did it doesn't mean that I'm not…..I don't know."

"You're perfectly entitled to be confused and upset.  All I'm asking is that you give him a chance to make it up to you.  Merlin knows Albus is doing a good enough job of beating himself up over this than to need anybody else's help."  She finished rolling her eyes and Harry couldn't help but smile at this hint of the Professor McGonagall they all knew and loved.  "In any case, it's time both of us were in our beds.  I do believe that I'm due a visit from Madame Pomfrey tomorrow and I don't know about you but I don't fancy still being here when Molly arrives down to start on breakfast."  This was said with the hint of a smile which Harry returned full force.  He returned to his room and fell quickly asleep.  When he next woke up, the sun was high in the sky and for the first time since the events in the ministry he had slept solidly for eight hours.  He made his way down stairs after he had washed and dressed, to find several of the house's inhabitants sitting companionably in the kitchen.  Mrs Weasley immediately pounced on him and sat him down in front of a bowl of porridge, which he stuck into with gusto – he hadn't realised how hungry he was.  A few minuets later a set of footsteps could be heard descending the stairs.

"Molly, Poppy was looking to have a word with you."  Said the Headmaster as he entered the room.  Harry looked up and straight at the older man.  There was a shift in the atmosphere, then he put down his spoon and, waiting until the older man looked up to him, smiled softly and said.

"Morning Headmaster."  It was a start.  It didn't by any means change everything, when the older-man suggested a few days later that it would be a good idea for him to recommence his training with Professor Snape, he had protested somewhat.  But, he had conceded when the Slytherin himself had approached him and things did begin to return to something approximating normality over the next few weeks. 


	5. Chapter 5

A Jail Can Have Many Walls – chapter 5

~~~~~~~~~~

            Sunday afternoons, over the last few weeks, had become something of a sanctuary for the Order of the Phoenix, both for those who were staying at Grimmauld Place, and for those who were only visiting.  Molly would predictably produce a stunning roast for lunch and then be ushered out of the kitchen as the rest of them got on with the dishes.  Even Severus would predictably appear in time to eat before he and Harry would secret themselves away in one of the numerous studies in the Black residence, for their most intensive Occlumency lessons.  From what Remus had picked up from the Potion Master's conversations with Dumbledore, Harry was improving quite dramatically.  This afternoon there was a relatively small group in the library at the front of the house, with the Headmaster away in meetings with the Ministry all day.  

"Check, I believe Mr Weasley."  Minerva said, entirely deadpan.  She was curled up in one of the chairs by the fire, having challenged Ron to a 

rematch after the rather notorious incident in the trios first year.  Though Minerva still looked somewhat ashen and was still restricted from exerting herself in any way, shape or form, she had improved dramatically since her arrival at the house; physically in any case.   

"Hmph."  Was the only response her student gave, as he began looking at the board with the utmost concentration.  The rest of the group were somewhat more lethargic. Ginny was curled in the corner of the couch reading a novel.  Her father completed a crossword, sat next to his wife who was darning socks.  Alistor Moody was absorbed in planning something or other, pieces of paper scattered around the large table he occupied.  Remus, on the other hand, was quite happy to observe the game that was going on in front of him.  He shifted slightly on his cushion trying to decide what the boy to his left would make as his next move.  The fire burning in front of Remus was keeping him nicely warm; in fact he was almost at the stage of deciding that following the game was too much of an effort when Ron spoke up.

"Checkmate!"  The triumphant exclamation was followed by a more hesitant question.  "Professor?"  He looked up from where he was watching the new lay out of pieces on the board, towards Minerva.  She wasn't returning their gaze though; her eyes were staring into the flames as they danced in the grate.  They were glazed though – it was as if she were looking through to something no one else could see.  Remus recognised the vacant stare, the slight tremble and the silent mouthing of the same words over and over again for what they were, and he obviously wasn't the only one to do so.

"Minerva?"  Molly's voice was more urgent than her son's and she was out of her seat, knocking the table with the newly abandoned game out of the way as she knelt in front of the other woman.  She placed a hand on her arm but didn't try and shake her as she continued to call to her softly.  "Minerva?  It's ok.  I'm here.  You're in Grimmauld Place, with the Order."  Moody travelled quickly and was putting out the fire before Remus was fully upright.

"Come on Ron, Ginny."  Remus said automatically, and he was grateful when they followed him towards the door.   Once they were out in the hall, Arthur squeezed past and Remus assumed he was going to contact either Dumbledore or Poppy Pomfrey.

"Right, how about we give them some space and go continue our 'Great Ice Cream Hunt'?"  He suggested, referring to their recent quest to find the best flavour of muggle ice cream.  They agreed, if a little apprehensively, and he sent them upstairs to remove robes and grab jackets.  Just as they were coming back into the hall, Snape and Harry rushed through the door that Arthur had disappeared into.

"Is…" Snape began.  Remus nodded and the other man headed into the library.

"Right, Harry – do you have a jacket around here somewhere?"

"Yeah…" He said somewhat distractedly.

"It's ok, I brought it down."  Ron said, having fairly obviously just returned to their room to find it.  Remus felt more than a little guilty as he ushered the teenagers out of the house and down the road.  He didn't tend to approve of the '_don't tell them anything'_ approach with children or young adults even, but this was different.  This was Minerva, his friend, their teacher, and after all that had happened of late he had felt that the least he could do would be to try and allow her some privacy.  Even as they walked down the road and the three youngsters who had matured far beyond their years made quiet conversation about nothing at all, he felt drawn back to the Headquarters.  It was stupid, he realised; there were plenty people there who were, if anything, far more qualified to help her at this moment in time.  He eventually reasoned himself into believing that he was doing what was for the best, and began to put in at least a little effort into conversing with his companions.

            When they were seated in the Baskin and Robin's, each with a new and exciting flavour of ice cream to test and compare, a silence fell over them for the first time since they had left the house.  Remus was concentrating on his Pooh Bear Crunch ice cream cone when Harry spoke up.

"You're worried about her, aren't you?"  He asked, after thoughtfully licking at a stream of melted Blueberry Surprise.  

"I worry about everybody I care for."  He answered, automatically dodging the question as well as he could.

"And you do care for her don't you?"  Ginny spoke up, looking sincere and far too grown up for her years.

"I've known the Professor for a long time.  She…" He didn't know what to say that would explain the bond they had with telling them more than they needed to know.  "She did far more than she was obligated to do for me when I was at school.  In fact, we were her first year as Head of House."

"Really?"  Ron asked, looking a little shocked.

"Yes, she had been teaching for a few years and by all accounts had been running Gryffindor already, but we were sorted the first year it became official.  And of course there was the Shrieking Shack."  He added, assuming they would understand him, but he was met by a series of blank looks and was genuinely surprised by this; he had assumed that they would have put the pieces together by now.  "Lets just say that the Marauders weren't the ones to actually come up with the idea about animagi being immune to the werewolf's bite.  Then we worked together for several years in the Order, and of course during my stint teaching at Hogwarts."  He reeled off.  In actuality, he had not seen much of her during that year; in fact he was fairly certain that none of the staff had. She had, as far as he could tell, spent a lot of time that year in the form of her cat alter ego.  Sirius had once tried to explain that being able to morph into the animal during his encounters with the dementors had saved his sanity once and having seen the shell of the woman whom Albus had carried out of the prison as he and many of the original members of the Order waited impatiently at St Mungo's, he wished with all his heart that if she had had to live through it, she had been in a fit state to change.  That way she would have had a little reprieve at least, but that had not been the case.  Even over the years, when they had grown into close friends and confidants of a sort, he had never learned much about her past, but he knew enough to realise that he wouldn't necessarily wish his worst enemy to have to relive it.  This afternoon was a classic example of this.  Though he had seen her close to that point during the original war, after they had been trapped together, hemmed in and forced to hide in the ruins of a burned out house, she had been able to fight.  He had grounded her as best he could as he tried to keep them quiet and she had managed to draw herself back to reality, but there was a haunted look in her eyes that he would never forget.  

            "So what exactly happened?  With the Shrieking Shack?"  Ginny asked quietly once again, breaking through Remus' pensive thoughts.

"Hmm?  Oh…" He thought back to the time in his life that over the last few months he had been trying to forget.  "Well, obviously Professor Dumbledore knew about my Lycanthropy before he agreed to accept me to Hogwarts, but obviously after I was sorted my Head of House had to be informed.  In hindsight I hate to think what might have happened that evening if the hat had decided I was better suited to Slytherin, or even either of the other two houses.  But in any case, I was ushered into his office after the feast where he and Professor McGonagall were waiting.  I don't think I've ever been so nervous in my life.

            "So Dumbledore sits us down and plies us both with tea, as is his wont.  Then he just comes out with it."  He paused and tried to rescue the ice cream that was trying to escape the cone.  "Then there was this silence.  It felt like it went on for hours but could only have been a few seconds, and then Professor McGonagall just looks at him and says quite plainly,  _'He may be a werewolf once every lunar month but he is also a Gryffindor, and therefore under my care every single day he spends here.'_"   

"Sounds like her."  Harry inserted thoughtfully.

"Hmm.  Well, the basic pattern for the next 7 years was set the second week after I arrived.  I reported to the hospital wing straight after dinner, and was escorted through the tunnel to the Shrieking Shack.  I don't really remember much about what went on that night, but I do remember waking up on the floor of one of the rooms upstairs.  It seems that Professor McGonagall and Madame Pomfrey had both come to collect me and that they were both somewhat shocked by the damage I had done to myself, moreso than what I had done to the cottage.  Two weeks later I was called to the Headmasters office again – I was so sure that he was going to tell me he had changed his mind, that he had decided that the risk was just too great but he didn't.  Instead, he and Professor McGonagall told me that they had come up with an idea that could perhaps help to make the transformations slightly more bearable."

"She suggested that an animagus might be immune?"  Ginny asked, the concentration on her face tantamount to fascination.  

"Pretty much.  I didn't realise at the time that they didn't know whether their hypothesis was true at all - it was totally untested.  It didn't stay that way for long though."  He paused, again taking the time to try and stop the ice cream from running down his cone.  "I've never been able to discern what actually went wrong that night, the next full moon, but when I woke up I was alone in the bedroom.  Or at least I thought I was.  After a few minutes I managed to find the little tabby cat lying on the top of a wardrobe that was barely staying upright.  It seemed I'd managed to catch her tail at some stage.  It was still attached – but not by much, and she'd lost a lot of blood.  Anyway, by the time I'd managed to get her down, Poppy arrived and took over.  I don't think I've ever felt so guilty as I did for the next few days.   I spent hours up in the library researching animagi, and I discovered that the way animals like cats transformed, I'd basically lopped off the bottom six vertebra of her back.  I suspect that if it weren't for the fact that Poppy is as good at her job as she is, the Professor wouldn't have made a recovery nearly so swift or complete as she did.  In any case, when I saw her next I was full of apologies, totally convinced that that was the end of the arrangement.  In hindsight I suspect that they had realised that she would need to be removed from the school over the next full moon, but I couldn't believe it when she brushed it off as her own fault.  She told me it was just a sign that she needed to quicken her reflexes and that she had every intention of being there next time round.  And she was, and that was the one and only time I caused her more than a scratch in 5 years."  They slipped back into silence, broken only by slurping tongues.  Remus had neglected to add a few facts that would have padded out the story, but thought back over them himself.  The evenings they had spent waiting for the sun to go down, drinking hot chocolate and talking at great length about things of no great importance.  He had often thought that she would make a wonderful mother as she held him in those minutes after sunrise when no one was quite sure it was safe to release them both.  But as he had grown, his feelings toward her had changed; he had begun to see her in a different light, as a woman.  He had thrown himself into finding out everything he could about this mysterious woman, researching everything from animagi to her own clan, something of a dying breed.  He searched through the newspapers and found more than one article on the tragic death of both her parents over the summer between her fourth and fifth years; he found the copy of her years' Leaver's Book and discovered that there had been more to her life than was readily apparent.  That she had been Head girl came as no surprise to him at all; there were even references throughout to her long-standing relationship with the Head boy.  At the time, ashamed though he was to admit it now, the fact that she had dated a Slytherin had been more than enough to put him off any romantic ideas he had developed and he had stopped his search.  It had been a log time after that, that he had discovered just whom this particular Slytherin had become.

            The name Tom Marvolo Riddle had meant nothing to him then and even after the rise of Lord Voldemort he had not learned of the connection for some time.  Throughout the wizarding world, there seemed little interest in discovering whom You Know Who had been before he came to their attention, and even within the order no one seemed to talk about it.  Those who knew didn't bring it up, and so he had only really learned by chance, when he had almost walked in on Dumbledore having a very quiet and meaningful discussion with his deputy.  When he returned from his thoughts he noticed that the others had all but finished their treats and he wasn't far behind them.  The house was quiet when they got back and he wasn't certain what to make of that.  He headed down to the kitchen where he could hear the murmur of voices; his three charges close behind.

"Molly?"  He asked, seeing her and Arthur in deep discussion at the far end of the careworn table.

"Oh you're back?"  She said with a smile, surreptitiously trying to wipe at her eyes.  "I'll put some tea on."  

"Is she ok?"  Harry asked the question that had been on all their lips.

"She's upstairs and Alistor and Poppy are both with her.  She's had a bit of shock, but she'll be fine."  Arthur replied, as his wife bustled around finding comfort in familiar actions.  The youngsters seemed to be satisfied by this response as they quickly made themselves scarce, allowing Remus to ask the questions that he really wanted to pose.

"How long?"  He asked taking a seat and gratefully accepting the mug proffered.

"About five minutes after you were gone.  I haven't seen her have a flashback that bad since… well it's been a long time."  Molly finished off, looking into the depths of her mug. Her husband placed a comforting arm around her shoulder before continuing.

"Severus went to try and track down Dumbledore, I kept being fobbed off with 'he's in a meeting'."  Remus smiled at this.

"In which case I suspect Severus will at least get the message to him."  He replied.  He got a smile from both of them, even if it was a little watery on Molly's part.

"Well I better get some dinner on then?"  She said after a minute, again seeming to be comforted in purpose of activity.  "Tonks said she might be by later and I ought to make up another couple of beds cause I suspect Alistor and Albus and probably Severus will want to stay…."

"I'll take care of those." He offered and drained his mug before standing.  It was nice to be able to do something useful in any case and maybe when he was done he could grab a word with Poppy.


End file.
